


Drift

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Anatomy, Established Relationship, Lazy - Freeform, M/M, Xeno, cuddly, drowsy, half-asleep, sleepy, snuggly, speculative reproductive xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cozy interlude at the end of the day. PWP.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://anunfinishedman.tumblr.com/post/66291284644">this gorgeous piece of fanart,</a> done by <a href="http://anunfinishedman.tumblr.com">anunfinishedman</a> over on tumblr. The smiles, the hands, the cozy bed... it writes itself. My hat is off to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drift

**Author's Note:**

> For details about the Cardassian anatomy referenced here, see end notes.

He's just on the point of dozing off when he feels the shifting of the mattress, the flutter of sheets as someone slides underneath them, the _extremely cold hands around his waist—_

"God! You're freezing!"

The sensation of cool, rough scales on his skin is enough to jolt his eyes open a little, and so he's just barely awake enough to grin to himself at Garak's smug, "Exactly."

"Mmph," he says eloquently, then sighs as Garak scoots himself in closer. He tugs the sheets up to his chest as Garak presses up against him, spooning in behind him, fitting ever-so-nicely up against him… rough thighs against his own, plump tummy against the small of his back, chest to spine and head in the crook of his neck and scaly ornate nose pressed into his shoulder, inhaling deeply, _mmm_ _… that's nice…_

There's a moment of calm, then, a moment where he's just awake enough to appreciate that he's being held close, that he's safe, that he's warm… well, warming up, anyway. It's a deep-down animal sort of comfort, back-brain humming in quiet contentment. The bed holds him up, and he's drifting, tossed gently between sleep and waking like a little boat on the waves, eyelids so heavy, drooping shut…

Oh, that's a bit… mmm, Garak's foot is working its way between Julian's ankles, wriggling as it pushes through and hooks backwards around Julian's own ankle… and now the other foot is doing the same. It's a bit more movement than he's quite prepared to deal with, and he makes a not-really-irritated sound even as he shifts his weight to make it easier. Oh, well; after a few seconds, Garak seems to have settled comfortably. He's got Julian wrapped up even more tightly, now, and is cozily skin-to-skin against him, close and tight from top to toes—

Hmm. Very tight, actually, and those ankles are moving slowly back and forth against Julian's own. Also, and more interestingly, the bump of Garak's sheath is rubbing up against Julian's bottom. A trifle slick, that sheath…

Suddenly Julian is a bit more awake, grinning against his pillow.

He slips his ankles out of Garak's grip, ignoring the half-voiced murmur of protest, and turns himself over so that he's facing Garak, soft nose to scaly nose, smooth forehead to bumpy Chufa. His hands slip down to Garak's belly, tracing over the softer scaling there, round and smooth and slightly cool, and then just a bit lower to that sheath which is, yes, definitely wet, and so he opens his eyes just enough to see Garak's lazy smile.

"Mmm… do you want to?"

A brief widening of that smile, an infinitesimal nod, and that's just lovely: he slips his arms around Garak, slides his hands to the small of his back, feels the ridging there, the scaling of his spine, how it splays out across the top of his buttocks, smooth and very grippable. His fingers find their accustomed niches, and he tugs Garak closer, presses the one part of him that's very much awake against Garak's sheath. Mmm, cool scales against the tip of his cock… they tickle just a bit, and he sighs.

Garak sighs a matching sigh and kisses him, all lips, no teeth. Apparently he's feeling lazy too. That's nice… it's been a long day, he doesn't really have the energy for chase-games or biting or much ruckus at all, but this he can manage, this lovely leisurely gentleness of lips against lips. Now Garak's mouth opens a bit, which is fine with Julian; his tongue is cool, his mouth tastes just a bit of pepper, and Julian lets his tongue glide against Garak's tongue, his teeth, his lips. Soft, wet, lazy kisses; he luxuriates in them, still half-asleep, and Garak's happy hum reverberates through his jaw, his mouth.

He pulls back just enough to ask softly, against his lips, "How do you want to…" and is answered by Garak's equally soft, "Just this, like this…"

Mmm. He knows what that means. Good, good, nice and easy, he can just drift his hand back over from Garak's spine, let it trace through the pretty scale-patterns until it finds the rounded ridge of Garak's sheath, enjoying the little scrapes against his fingertips. When he palms the sheath, Garak everts into his hand without any games at all. It's nice not to have to work for it, nice to have Garak firm and wet in his hand, nice to rub his erection against Garak's and to hear him sigh. There's a building warmth in his groin, a subtle tension in his muscles, and Garak is breathing faster. He slips a cool hand down to rest on Julian's, strokes a finger over the tip of his prick, and it's lovely.

Now, if Garak will just… yes, he knows, the steps of this dance are well-marked. At the gentle pressure of Julian's hand, Garak angles his hips so that his erection is just offset, just enough so that Julian can slip his cock through the curve of Garak's cock, so that Julian can thrust gently and rub against Garak's frill, _oh,_ and that's very good, that's perfect—

He presses the tip of Garak's erection back against his Chuva, rubbing it gently against the centre of the indentation, and he's rewarded by Garak's gasp and arched back. God, he's gorgeous, all rounded edges, so different from Julian's own bony hips and pointy knees. If he stretches out his fingers he can just... yes, he can keep Garak's cock pinned down and stroke that soft belly at the same time, and now that he has Garak's cock curved just as he likes it, he can rub himself through the little arch it makes. It's slick against the head of his prick, and Garak trembles as he thrusts gently through, sliding back and forth against Garak's scaled frill. Each movement pulls a new gasp out of Garak, whispering, husky little sounds, humming out of him, matching the low sounds Julian can't push down—not that he'd want to, God, no, not when it's so good to hear their voices blending in the dark... oh, it's _good_ to be with him, good to move against him under the sheets, warm and safe and hushed, mouths together, sharing breath. Garak rocks himself back and forth against Julian's cock, gasping and greedy, his hand still grasping Julian's. It rubs against his prick as he moves, and it's a sharp pleasure to feel the rasp of those fingertips, oh, God, his muscles are thrumming, he's swirling heat inside, and as Garak makes a tight sound, presses his eyes closed, opens his mouth, Julian can't stop looking at him, _oh, my God!_

There it is, that wetness flowing between his fingers as Garak gasps, and he smiles at the sensation. It drips over Garak's belly, it pools in his Chuva, it makes everything slicker, slipperier. Julian catches a hint of its almost spicy scent and it hits him square in the groin, makes him pant as he slides against the place Garak's made just for him; he's moving faster now, pleasure mounting inside him, and when he drops off its edge, mouth against Garak's shoulder ridge, eyes squeezed shut, the sound he makes is long and low.

Afterwards he's even lazier, if possible, than he was a few minutes before, and now Garak's lazy too, drooping against him, prick slipping back into its sheath, leaving only a rather considerable mess as evidence of their brief moments of motivation. Garak's less-messy hand strokes his hair, traces his cheek, his nose, slips down his face and down his neck until it rests on his shoulder, where it gives every evidence of making its home for the night. Julian smiles at him, kisses him under his chin, lets his teeth graze the ridge there, and Garak makes a pleased, sleepy sound.

Mmmph... that's a bit cold. "Should we…?"

Garak frowns drowsily, dismisses the thought with a shake of his head. "Tomorrow…"

"It'll be sticky…" he warns, already half-asleep and dropping fast, but Garak's response is a mumbled sort-of-word which could be Kardasi, could be Standard, could be nothing at all, and considering that Julian is now ninety-nine percent asleep, he resolves to leave it for the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> My detailed breakdown of my version of Cardassian anatomy can be found [here](http://tinsnip.tumblr.com/post/67613563632/okay-so-i-just-read-your-ticks-fic-and-wow-that-was), for the curious.
> 
> For the less curious, Julian's thinking in Human terms here. What he calls the frill, Garak would call the irllun. It's a raised ridge of microscaling around the base of Garak's penis, and it's the go-to area for pleasure. Kudos to them for figuring out a way to please them both at the same time!
> 
> The Chufa is the forehead spoon, name courtesy of the [Cardassian Sourcebook](http://stexpanded.wikia.com/wiki/Cardassian_Sourcebook). The Chuva is the groin spoon, name courtesy of [teroknortailor](http://teroknortailor.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> "Chase-games" are a quick drop-in from crowdog66's amazing [Risian Cordial](http://doctor-tailor.dreamwidth.org/3943.html?thread=5735&style=light), and have wormed their way into my Cardassian romantic armamentarium. (everyone's got one, right?)
> 
> I do love that this is a fandom where the PWP comes with references.


End file.
